


bonfire hearts

by allthelostsouls



Series: prompts [3]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Explicit Language, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2014-08-25
Packaged: 2018-02-14 17:22:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2200413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthelostsouls/pseuds/allthelostsouls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But Ian’s not disappointed at all. He’s actually laughing his ass off, his eyes closed and his hand on one side of his face, and Mickey feels so fucking proud of himself. Mickey’s mind fills with white teeth and wrinkles, and red hair and shoulders shaking, and he can’t stop staring. He’s not even sure if he wants to stop staring. He sees his mouth moving and he wants to kiss him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	bonfire hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous said: "I'm in love with your writing,so i has a prompt or whatever for youuuuuu-- could you like write one where they get ridiculously drunk and end up doing the silly shit that people do when they are drinking?? Like games and shit i dunooor i like drunk fics"
> 
> I feel like I didn't do what you asked me for but I hope you like it anyways! I love drunk fics, too, but they're so hard to write, omg. I think I used the word ' _fuck_ ' too many fucking times but _fuck. it._  
>  Title from [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g1j1qwQQ8-Q) song by James Blunt. (I might or might not be in love with him.)

Mickey’s having a hard time trying to find the right words.

That’s how fucked up he is because Ian had a card with the words “salt & pepper” written over it stuck on his forehead and Mickey couldn’t come up with anything that might even sort of give Ian a clue of what the words were. He’s too busy thinking about how good Ian would look on top of him, and he wants to kiss him senseless. Ian sighs in frustration after who knows how long and with a low _damn it_ , he takes the card. “Seriously?! Salt and pepper, you can’t explain salt and pepper?”

“Ay, those are really hard words,” Mickey tries to defend himself and he does a pretty shitty job at it. He’s laughing without anything being funny and then he’s just leaning in, pressing his mouth against Ian’s. He digs his nails on his shoulders and Ian follows him until Mickey’s lying on his back and his legs are wrapped around Ian’s waist and the moan that Ian breaths on his mouth sends Mickey’s head spinning.

Mickey whines when Ian stops kissing him and they both know immediately that’s one of those things that they’ll never talk about while sober. “I swear you’ll be the death of me, Ian,” Mickey whispers and Ian knows that was supposed to be only a thought when Mickey stares up at him all wide-eyed as if he was scared, and he just lens down again to press his lips against Mickey’s, wiping the worry out of his face. That’s one more thing added to the list.

Ian stares down at him and a small smile tugs up the corners of his mouth. “Very nice lady who I’d have loved to get the chance to meet and a complete asshole that is in jail.”

Mickey surprises both of them when he screams, “Mom and dad!”

“Yes!” Ian follows his scream with another laugh and quickly removes the card from Mickey’s forehead and sticks another one. “When these two colors mix they give you orange.”

“Red and yellow?”

Ian nods quickly and keeps asking questions but he loses Mickey faster than he hopes. And so he just rests his forearms on his chest and looks down at him with a question mark written all over his face. Mickey looks at him like he’s never done it before and suddenly Ian’s very nervous. His heart starts running a marathon in his chest and his hands shake and he thinks, _this’ it, Mickey’s gon’ say it_.

“Let’s go to Wendy’s! I like Wendy’s ‘cause the girl has red hair just like yours. The food’s pretty good, too, but you know.”

Okay, maybe not.

But Ian’s not disappointed at all. He’s actually laughing his ass off, his eyes closed and his hand on one side of his face, and Mickey feels so fucking proud of himself. Mickey’s mind fills with white teeth and wrinkles, and red hair and shoulders shaking, and he can’t stop staring. He’s not even sure if he wants to stop staring. He sees his mouth moving and he wants to kiss him. And he does because why the fuck not? They’ve come a long way and even though Mickey’s never been comfortable with public displays of affection, he’s trying. And right now they’re alone, he’s drunk, and Ian smells so good he just has to.

“Fuck,” Mickey breathes against Ian’s mouth and then he lets his head fall back into the floor, his eyes still closed, and Ian knows there’s a war going on inside his head. 

Ian takes it as his queue to put some distance between them and so he manages to stand up and gets two more beers from the fridge. When he comes back to the living room, he sits on the couch instead of the floor, and watches Mickey try his best to pull himself up. With a little extra work, he finds a spot at the other end of the couch where he stares at his hands. He knows he fucked up and it’s so quiet all of a sudden, no loud laugh or heavy breathings, and Mickey just—

“Kiss me again,” Ian demands and Mickey’s eyes fly to his face. “I fucking dare you.”

And that’s when Mickey thinks _fuck it_ and crawls as fast as he can to the other side of the couch were Ian’s waiting for him and then they move their legs and hit each other with their knees until finally, _fucking finally_ , Mickey’s sitting on top of Ian, his legs at either side of him. He moves his hips slowly while sucking onto Ian’s lower lip and when Ian grunts, Mickey thinks _mine, mine, mine, mine_ and the world stops spinning after Ian breathes against his mouth, “Yes, yours.”  
His hands start pulling at Ian’s shirt and he opens his pants like a pro but when he pulls back to support himself in between Ian’s legs and leans down to mouth at the bulge on his underwear, his head starts spinning. Not in the good way.

Mickey falls to the side and Ian’s laughing his ass off while trying to pull him up. With a lot of effort, Mickey ends up sitting on the floor, his back against the couch. “You okay there?”

“Fuck you,” Mickey flips him off.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Ian replies with a smug smile and Mickey can hide his smile when Ian leans down to kiss his forehead. “Let’s go to bed, yeah?”

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Mickey exaggerates his pronunciation so he’s able to say the whole word as proof of his soberness apparently, but he isn’t fooling anyone. “’s important.”

Ian nods and sits next to him. Their shoulders and forearms brushing, their legs touching and _fucking hell_ , Mickey’s having the worst time of his life trying to focus on something that isn’t Ian and thinking something that isn’t licking every inch square of his skin.

“What is it?”

“Ian,” he starts. Pauses. And after a couple of deep breathes that help hold down the liquor, he decides to try again. “Ian, people like us—we don’t—we don’t need that much, you know? Just someone-someone that starts the spark in our bonfire hearts.”

“Oh my God,” Ian’s breathless and his head’s spinning. “Are you fucking quoting a James Blunt song right now?”

“Ay, fuck you. He’s a good singer. Has pretty blue eyes, too.”

“Can’t argue with that, I guess.”

“I’d fucking mop the floor with your ass if you did.”

Ian’s laugh makes Mickey's heart flutter once more and it’s so fucking ridiculous he has to laugh, too. Ian helps him up and mumbles a low, “I love it when you talk dirty to me.” And okay, he can’t say shit like that when Mickey’s drunk because his mind fills with filthy things immediately and it’s so not fair because Ian’s just joking. And by the tiny smirk on his face, Mickey knows that Ian knows what he’s doing to him.

“Fuck off,” he grumbles and falls into the bed.

Ian stumbles while taking the rest of his clothes off and then stumbles some more while helping Mickey get out of his. Later, when they're both in bed, Mickey can't shut his brain up. He keeps thinking, thinking, and thinking. The litte voice in his head screaming, _do it, do it, just fucking do it. Tell him!_

“Ian,” Mickey sighs and he knows. Ian _knows_.

“Me too,” he says kissing Mickey. 

_I’ll say the fucking words out loud just for you to hear them, I fucking promise_ , Mickey thinks and he might have said it out loud but it doesn’t matter. Ian’s so close—wrapping his arms around him and hiding his face on his neck, that nothing else in the whole fucking world matters.

**Author's Note:**

> [xcaffeinerush.tumblr.com](http://xcaffeinerush.tumblr.com) \- you know what to do ;)


End file.
